


Blood in the Water

by bepreparedf0rhell



Category: Motionless in White (Band)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Knifeplay, M/M, Oops, Smut, but it's not, it seems like it might be, nothing here is happy, slight dubcon, slight self harm in kind of a roundabout way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:46:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22845052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bepreparedf0rhell/pseuds/bepreparedf0rhell
Summary: In which Chris has needs and Justin just so happens to be the one he's decided is going to meet them.
Relationships: Chris "Motionless" Cerulli/Justin Morrow
Comments: 12
Kudos: 17





	Blood in the Water

**Author's Note:**

> so, this is very different for me and i'm not very confident in it but also i've been working on it for a few weeks and i'm kind of proud of it? i don't know.
> 
> title and loose inspiration from “the fastest way to a girl’s heart is through her ribcage” by ice nine kills.

Chris doesn’t know where it all came from. He’s really not sure, no matter how hard he tries to pinpoint the moment it all started. He knows he’s had a hard-on for Justin since the beginning, since they met years ago. He knows he’s dreamt of Justin’s soft skin, of his shaggy hair, of the stubble that he sometimes lets adorn his chin, of how his body’s the exact definition of the word thick, solid and sturdy with long limbs and just the right amount of thick muscle tone. 

For a long time, it had just been innocent lust, a crush. Chris and Justin had only crossed paths on rare occasions; even when their bands were touring together, it was very easy for Chris to just avoid him. In fact, he was pretty sure Justin had thought he was a dick for the longest time because of how standoffish he’d been. If only Justin had known it had all been for his own good. 

Now, through a series of happy accidents and pure coincidences, they’re in the same band. They spend almost every waking moment together. They sleep on the same bus, spend their off time at all the same tourist traps, eat at all the same restaurants when there’s a free moment.

Chris’ infatuation has only grown. In fact, it’s grown to an unhealthy level and he knows it. He’s not able to stop the feelings, not able to change them, but he knows it. Everything about Justin fascinates him. Everything from the way he’s pissy when he first wakes up in the morning to how he has a tendency to be cuddly and soft when he’s a little tipsy and tired at night. Everything from the scrunched up look of concentration on his face when he puts on his makeup before a show to the giant smiles that take up his whole face when he interacts with fans on stage. Everything. Every single little miniscule thing about the boy fascinates Chris, pulls him in and keeps him there. 

Those, among other reasons, are how Chris found himself in the situation he’s currently in. He’s fucking desperate, doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t want to do it, he really doesn’t, but he’s not sure he’ll survive if he doesn’t. He needs it, needs the release, needs… something. He needs Justin.

_“Hey, dude. Mind coming up to my room for a sec?”_

The outgoing message dings on his phone, and almost immediately the bubble pops up to alert him that Justin is typing. Butterflies rise in Chris’ chest, his palms going sweaty. His plan had originally ended at the text message, and he mentally scolds himself for not thinking it out more. Realistically, he supposes maybe he’d never actually pictured himself going through with it. But he’s in it now, might as well see how it plays out. 

_“Sure. I’m playing a game with Vin but when we’re done I’ll be up.”_

Justin’s response arrives in Chris’ palm and he takes a deep breath, steadying himself. Okay. He can do this. He wants this, has wanted this for as long as he can remember. It’s fine. Everything’s fine. 

About fifteen minutes later, a knock sounds on the door of the hotel room and just about makes Chris jump out of his skin. He’s so on edge that he wishes he had a drink to down before he walks to the door, but he doesn’t. His hands shake as he makes his way to the door, and a glance through the peephole reveals Justin in all his glory. He’s wearing a soft-looking gray hoodie and that fucking pair of jeans with the huge hole in the thigh that always makes Chris’ dick twitch in his pants. His faded green hair’s in a tousled mess on his head and he just looks so fucking soft. His appearance is almost enough to make Chris falter and change his mind. Almost.

Chris takes a deep breath and swings the door open, doing his absolute most to seem calm and collected even though he’s still shaking and his armpits are suddenly much more damp than they had been seconds before. He’s feeling borderline frantic, but the small grin Justin offers him helps to quell some of the unrest in his stomach.

“Hey, dude. What’s up?” Justin greets him happily, and Chris can tell he’s had at least a few drinks. Good. Maybe that’ll make this easier. He’s not drunk by any means; lucky for Chris he’s become ridiculously well-versed in Justin’s varying levels on inebriation. The level he’s at now makes him happy, cuddly, easy to please. It’s perfect if Chris is being honest. 

“I just, uh…” Chris stumbles on his words and curses himself for it. This really wasn’t how he’d wanted this to go. He’d wanted to take what he’d wanted with confidence, unwavering sureness. 

“What?” Justin asks, an eyebrow raising.

Chris takes a deep breath, shakes his head to clear it. Fine. Maybe a different approach is in order. If there’s one thing Chris knows how to do and do well it’s seduce his band mates. He’s not exactly proud of it, but Justin’s the only member of the band he hasn’t seen in a more than compromising position. Maybe that’s the move here. Maybe he just tries to make it seem like a totally normal thing. 

“I just thought maybe you might want to…” he trails off, this time faking the uncertainty, switching from real nerves to manufactured ones as his confidence grows. It seems to work on Justin immediately; he’s taking steps towards Chris, closing the gap between them relatively quickly.

“Might want to what?” Justin asks, his eyebrow raised. Chris shrugs. In the next second, Justin’s hand is on Chris’ arm, his fingers trailing their way up from his wrist to his elbow tenderly. Goosebumps rise over Chris’ skin and he shivers lightly, taking a deep breath. 

Justin leans in, his mouth right next to Chris’ ear. 

“Is it finally my turn to see that legendary dick of yours?” he asks, and Chris almost blows his load in his pants right then and there. He’d already been turned on; hell, he’d been turned on since the second he’d sent the text message. But now, Justin’s here and he seems willing for at least the beginning bits of what’s going to happen, and… and Chris falters again. 

With how things are going, it seems like he could just fuck him. He could just fuck him and leave the door open for future fucking. It could be perfect. It could be something real. But then… then Chris would still have all the other shit pent up inside him, the shit he doesn’t understand but knows he has to work out somehow. 

While Chris is lost in thought, suddenly Justin’s lips are on his neck. He yelps in surprise, his head instinctively lolling back to give him better access. God, he’s good. He finds the weak spot under Chris’ ear in no time at all and sucks on it lightly, making him groan loudly. 

“Well?” Justin asks into his skin, and Chris hums quietly, completely confused as to what he’s being asked because he’s so disoriented. “What do you want?” Justin asks, and suddenly Chris knows exactly what he wants, what he needs. There’s no more questioning it, no more confusion or apprehension. 

“You,” Chris answers, and Justin pulls his head back enough to smile at him. 

Chris, plan fully activated in his head now, shoves Justin hard backwards in the direction of the bed across the room. Justin lets him, taking steps backwards and raising an eyebrow as Chris continues to shove. Once they finally reach the edge of the bed, Chris yanks Justin’s hoodie and t-shirt over his head, running his nails down his pale chest and smiling when Justin makes a sound that almost sounds like a purr. Satisfied, Chris shoves one more time and Justin allows himself to fall backwards into the sheets. 

Chris stands above Justin and just studies him for a few moments, taking him in. God, he’s fucking gorgeous. There’s no way around it; the boy is fucking beautiful. Every angle of his features, every curve of his body, just… Chris has to take a deep breath to steady himself. Justin’s looking up at him expectantly, waiting for the next move to be made, and though Chris is vaguely surprised that Justin seems to be leaving him in charge, it definitely works. 

Chris reaches out for Justin, doing everything he can to keep his fingers from shaking. He feels like his whole body’s shaking; like he’s vibrating with the power of what he’s about to do, the power of what he needs to do. His patience is already wearing thin, but he does everything he can to ignore it. It’s fine. He wants to play first, to explore. 

He trails his fingers up Justin’s leg, landing on the hole in the thigh of his jeans. Justin’s breath hitches when Chris’ cold fingers make contact with his sensitive skin and Chris smiles down at him. Chris traces the outside perimeter of the large hole in the fabric with his fingers, getting a good feel for Justin’s soft skin. Justin’s eyes flutter closed and Chris bends his fingers into a claw and drags his nails down the skin of Justin’s exposed thigh, smiling again when a loud groan slips out into the room. The scratch isn’t enough to draw blood; Chris still isn’t quite ready for that yet, but goddamn it if it doesn’t make him even more excited for what’s to come. 

“God, you’re fucking hot,” Chris admits breathlessly, unable to hold it back. Justin’s eyes open and he looks up at him, a smile spreading across his face. 

“Come here,” Justin growls, reaching for Chris. Chris leans forward and Justin’s fist curls into the front of his shirt, yanking him down towards him roughly. Their lips meet and Chris thinks his soul might just leave his body. He’s not surprised Justin’s a good kisser - of course Justin’s a good kisser. He is surprised, though, when it’s enough to distract him for a solid couple of minutes. 

They end up just making out for a while, Justin thrusting his hips upward and Chris grinding his downward and both of them groaning quietly into each other’s mouths. Again, it’s almost enough to make Chris change his mind. Almost. 

Finally, he snaps out of it and hauls himself off of Justin, who’s looking up at him with confusion clear on his face. Justin waits patiently as Chris crosses the room to his bag. He pulls out a bottle of lube - though he is fully planning on hurting Justin, he’s not planning on hurting him _that_ way - and a small pocket knife that he slips into the pocket of his jeans before Justin can see it. 

He crosses back to Justin, sizing him up. 

“Roll over,” he says, and Justin does so immediately. “Get on your knees,” he tells him, and again Justin’s moving to do as he’s told at once. 

Justin’s ass is up in the air and even though it’s still covered by jeans, Chris can’t help but salivate just slightly at it. Justin’s not a small guy; he’s tall and has long limbs, curves and muscles and even a little bit of chub in all the right places, and _goddamn_ Chris is so fucking attracted to him it almost hurts. 

Regaining his composure once more, Chris reaches around and undoes Justin’s pants, tugging them and his boxer briefs down roughly. Justin’s letting out these little whimpers, sounds of want and desperation, and as Chris backs up to get a full view of what’s in front of him, he sighs heavily and pours some lube into his hand, rubbing it across all his fingers. He’s not sure what Justin’s experience level is, isn’t sure how much warming up he’s going to take, but he’s ready for it. Whatever he needs, Chris is willing to give it to him as long as it ends with him getting what he needs as well. 

Chris runs a hand down the soft skin of Justin’s back, smirking as he watches goosebumps rise over his skin. Justin squirms underneath him and Chris shakes his head. 

“Patience,” he says quietly, and Justin lets out a whine. Chris can see him reaching for his own dick, yanking it through a couple of strokes as he continues to groan. That’s fine; it’s not going to get in Chris’ way if he jacks himself off while he does his thing. Plus, it’s fucking hot. 

Chris positions his finger at Justin’s opening, smiling again as he watches Justin start to jack himself faster. 

“You want it?” Chris asks, and Justin nods as his head falls down in front of him, his hair hanging in limp clumps around his head. “Tell me you want it.”

“P-please. I want it,” Justin begs, and that’s enough. Chris slips one finger inside of him, watching him as he reacts to it. “G-god,” Justin moans, and Chris slips in another finger, and after a minute another and another. 

Chris works Justin for a while, making sure he’s good and ready. Once he’s satisfied that he is, Chris yanks down the zipper of his own pants and pulls them down, making sure they hang just above his knees so that he still has access to the knife in the pocket. He runs his free hand over Justin’s skin a little more; caressing his back, leaning forward so that he can run a few fingers down his arm, standing back up so that he can squeeze his ass.

Finally, he pulls his fingers out of Justin and strokes his own dick a couple of times, closing his eyes and letting his head go limp to make sure he’s ready for this. He takes a deep breath, trying to slow down the heart rate that feels like it’s about to have his heart bursting right out of his chest. Justin’s still moaning in front of him, still has his hand on his own dick stroking himself lazily. It’s time. 

Chris opens his eyes, lines up his dick, and pushes it into Justin slowly. Justin’s hand drops from his dick and he falls forward, his hands digging into the sheets on the bed. Chris thinks he might pass out right on the spot. Stars burst in front of his eyes as all the blood drains from his head and flows straight to his dick and he’s dizzy and disoriented, but Justin feels so fucking good, better than he’d even imagined. 

Chris thrusts in and out a few times, letting himself get a good feel of Justin’s warmth wrapped around his dick. Justin’s moaning louder than ever, incoherently mumbling things Chris can’t quite make out, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters other than what Chris knows more than ever he has to do now. 

Still inside him, still moving back and forth, Chris reaches down and pulls the knife from his jeans pocket. Justin’s being loud enough that Chris doesn’t even have to be quiet about popping the knife open. He keeps up his pace, keeps moving, watching Justin writhe in front of him. 

“Oh god,” Chris whispers, and he’s sure Justin probably didn’t even hear it. He runs a finger along the cool metal blade of the knife, closing his eyes. He can’t quite believe this is happening, can’t quite believe he’s actually going to do it, but he is. He has to. 

Opening his eyes, Chris casts Justin one final look. He’s so fucking hot, he really is. Chris shoves into him one last good time, making him cry out. 

“Shhh,” Chris cautions, pulling out agonizingly slowly. He can’t help but let out a small whimper of his own as the absence of Justin’s warmth hits him, and Justin’s lifting his head to look back at him. 

“Is everything okay?” Justin asks, and Chris nods. 

“Yeah. I just want to see your face,” Chris says, and Justin’s immediately flipping over onto his back and looking up at Chris expectantly. Knife concealed in his hand, Chris leans down and plants a soft sweet kiss on Justin’s lips. Justin clearly wants more, but Chris isn’t going to give it to him. Instead, he stands back up, repositions himself, and pushes into Justin once more.

Once they’ve got a pace going again a few minutes later, once Chris has adequately gotten off a little more and Justin’s reduced to small moans and closed eyes, face a mask of peaceful pleasure, it’s time. 

Chris unwraps his fingers from the knife, watching it glint in the overhead light as he holds it up. He closes his eyes, barely able to keep himself contained at the thoughts of what’s to come. When he opens his eyes again, Justin’s still just enjoying the ride, biting his lip and writhing underneath Chris. 

Breath coming in ragged pants, Chris reaches down and presses the cool metal of the blade against Justin’s chest, cutting gingerly. He doesn’t want it to be anything too big, anything that won’t heal. He just wants to make his mark, and as soon as he sees blood rise to the surface, he pulls back. 

Justin’s eyes fly open as a different kind whine leaves his lips and he looks at Chris with sheer confusion on his face. Chris is pretty sure he doesn’t even really know what’s just happened to him, doesn’t realize the prick he felt was anything other than Chris’ nails a little extra hard. 

“What the fuck?” he mumbles, clearly disoriented enough by the fact that Chris is still deep inside of him to not really be able to form thoughts about it.

“Shh, it’s okay,” Chris says quietly, watching as a thin stream of blood flows from the cut and drips down the side of Justin’s chest. It hits the white sheet underneath him and Chris has to close his eyes and take a deep breath. He won’t come yet. It’s too soon. But dear fucking god, he’d always known Justin would be just as sexy bleeding. 

Underneath him, Justin seems to be realizing what’s happening. Chris is still holding the knife out in the open; he’d meant to slip his hand back around it so that it was at least partially concealed, but the sight of Justin’s blood had completely thrown him off.

“Did you just..?” Justin asks, all traces of pleasure gone from his face. He’s squirming, clearly trying to get a good look at himself. He raises a hand up to the cut on his chest, pulling his fingers away with blood on them. “ _What the fuck_?” he asks again, this time much more urgently. 

“I…” Chris falters for a second, and in that time Justin’s able to shove him up and off of him. Chris stumbles backward and Justin’s up, his face contorted into some version of hurt and anger. 

“You what, huh? You fucking cut me?” Justin fumes, all traces of the warm tipsiness gone from him. Shit. Apparently Chris should’ve tried to get him a little more drunk. Justin reaches up, touching the cut on his chest again. It’s barely even bleeding anymore; Chris can see that when he pulls his hand away this time there’s not even any blood on his fingers. 

Chris can’t muster words. This is absolutely _not_ how he’d pictured this going. Admittedly, he’d been so keyed up, so ready to get things in motion, he hadn’t really thought about Justin’s reaction or how to handle said reaction. 

“You couldn’t at least fucking ask first? Jesus Christ,” Justin says, sounding annoyed and hurt. Regret flashes through Chris, but only briefly. Wait. He’d said… he’d just said that asking might’ve gotten him somewhere. That has to have been what he’d meant, right? _Right?_

A new wave of excitement washes over Chris as he crosses the room to Justin. Justin’s eyes snap up and connect Chris with a gaze that feels like it’s supposed to have fire behind it. Chris continues approaching anyway, formulating a plan. He’s not sure if it’s going to work, not sure what’s going to happen next, but he’s got to try. Realistically, he knows that even tipsy, Justin can probably overpower him. They’re about the same size, but Justin’s more built, sturdier. If Justin wanted to get away from him or wanted to get Chris away from him himself, he could. It’s all up to him now. 

Chris stops in front of him, watching Justin’s eyes. He can’t read them, wishes desperately he could. He doesn’t know what Justin’s thinking, but he won’t dare ask. Asking him to speak would likely put too much thought behind the situation. Instead, Chris reaches up and extends his hand to Justin, holding out the handle of the small knife. 

Justin looks at it like he doesn’t know what it is, looks up at Chris like he’s absolutely lost it. 

“Take it,” Chris encourages, nodding. Justin does, but he doesn’t look firm on the decision. Chris nods again, pulling the soft sweater he’s wearing over his head and slipping the rest of the way out of his pants, leaving them both standing there, naked and staring at each other expectantly. 

“What the fuck do you want me to do with this?” Justin asks, his voice cautious. Chris can tell he knows damn well what he’s supposed to do with it. 

“Cut me,” Chris says, glancing down at his own tattooed chest and then back up at Justin.

“No,” Justin says, but Chris can’t help but notice that Justin’s staring pretty intently at his chest, and he’s pretty sure he’s not just admiring the tattoo work. 

“Why not?” Chris asks, and Justin swallows hard. “I cut you, I want you to cut me. It’s fine,” Chris says, and Justin’s dark eyes float up to his. 

“No, I don’t… I don’t want to do that,” Justin says, and Chris can’t help but let a smirk cross his face. 

“Your dick says otherwise,” Chris says, glancing in the direction. Justin had gone half-soft throughout the whole ordeal, his body clearly confused as to just what exactly was happening. Now, though? Now, he’s fully hard again, twitching at Chris’ words. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Justin asks, but doesn’t make any moves to indicate that he’s anywhere near as disgusted as he wants Chris to think he is. He’s had time. He could be dressed and out the door by now, but he’s not. He’s not because he’s intrigued, and Chris feels the tip of his exposed dick slicking down with precome at the thought. 

“Cut me,” Chris repeats, and Justin shakes his head.

“ _Cut me!_ ” Chris yells it this time, doing his best to sound stern and authoritative. He can see Justin recoil slightly, clearly not having expected that. “Don’t be a chicken shit, fucking cut me. Make me bleed!” 

Chris can see the temper rising in Justin’s eyes, can almost physically see them turning even darker than they usually are. 

“I want you to fucking cut me! I want you to make me bleed, goddamn it!” Chris continues, taking steps toward Justin, closing the gap between them. 

“Don’t,” Justin cautions, and Chris shrugs and steps even closer to him, raising his hand to his shoulder and shoving him backward hard. Justin stumbles, looking at Chris with the most adorable look of confusion on his face. He clearly still doesn’t really get it, but that’s fine. Before, Chris had needed to cut Justin. All he’d been able to think about was cutting Justin. But now? Oh god, now he needs Justin to cut him more than he needs air.

Justin composes himself, doing his best to keep his face neutral, but Chris can tell his head is swimming. He’s angry, annoyed, confused. All these things are as clear on his face as if he’d written them on his forehead. 

Chris smirks, shoves him again. 

“Chris, stop,” Justin says, but Chris can’t help but notice the way he’s biting his lip, the way his eyes are still surveying Chris’ chest like it’s a piece of real estate he’s hoping to buy.

“No,” Chris says, shoving Justin one more time. 

Finally, something seems to snap. Justin lunges for Chris, shoving him back hard. Chris takes a deep breath, letting himself stumble. Justin pushes him again, this time leaving his hand planted firmly on Chris’s shoulder. He’s squeezing hard, so hard that Chris wonders absently if he might accidentally draw blood just from how hard his nails are digging into him. 

Justin keeps roughly pushing until Chris is backed up against a wall, and when Chris looks up at him, his brown eyes are deliciously glazed over, almost like something’s taken him over completely.

Justin studies Chris, his breathing rough and ragged. Chris nods just slightly, hoping the movement is enough to encourage him. It seems to be. Justin reaches up, bracing his forearm across Chris’ throat, pinning him back against the wall. Chris raises his head slightly so that Justin can push harder, and he does. Chris licks his lips, closes his eyes in anticipation.

A second later, the cool metal of the blade is on his chest. The touch startles him and he jumps, but doesn’t let himself open his eyes. Instead, he throws his head back further, letting out a small growl when he feels Justin’s muscled forearm push even further into his throat. He listens as Justin takes a breath, knows he’s still hesitant. A second later, though, the metal is pushing into the skin of his chest in a very similar place as he’d cut Justin. 

“Oh… god,” Chris says, breathless. “ _Oh, fuck_.”

The sharp pain makes his dick leak, and he’s not even sure it can be considered precome anymore. He’s pretty sure he’s just had at least the beginning of an orgasm, and when he opens his eyes and sees the way Justin’s staring at him slack jawed with clear beads of sweat on his forehead, he’s pretty sure he’s feeling the same thing. 

“Again,” Chris manages around Justin’s arm, his voice raspy and broken. “P-please.”

Justin glances between Chris’ face and the cut on his chest, nodding. Chris can feel a small stream of blood running down his chest, his stomach, over his hip and onto his leg, and he closes his eyes again. 

Justin’s still pushing on his throat, and a second later he’s pushing the blade into the other side of his chest too. 

“Fuck…” Chris breathes, and he’s pretty sure he’s actually about to come. 

“Fuck me,” Justin says, and Chris’ eyes snap open. For a moment, he’s sure he’s hearing things. No way Justin just said what he thought he did…

“Now. Fuck me right now,” Justin repeats, and Chris is scrambling, moving to do as he’s been told. 

Justin removes his arm and Chris shoves him against the wall, watching as he bends just enough. Chris gets his angle right and shoves into Justin, making them both moan loudly enough he’s pretty sure the people in the next room probably heard them. 

Justin’s got his hand on himself again, stroking himself hard and fast, making those fucking noises that make Chris feel like his legs are made of jelly. Justin’s clearly close, really close, and so is Chris, and it only takes a few minutes for both of them to be letting go. Chris falls forward onto Justin’s back and Justin lurches forward against the wall as his orgasm explodes out of him with a breathless growl. 

Chris fucks in and out of him a few more times as they both work their way through their climaxes, both of them panting and seemingly barely able to stand. 

“Get the fuck off of me,” Justin says a minute later, and Chris listens even though he desperately doesn’t want to, pulling out and immediately shivering at the absence of warmth on his dick. 

“Justin…” Chris starts, but Justin’s not listening. He’s already collecting his clothes from around the room, dressing even though multiple parts of him are a mess that should probably be cleaned up. 

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” Justin says, clearly mad. 

“What…” Chris trails off, confused. He’d thought… he’d thought they’d found something.

“Just don’t,” Justin says, pulling on his hoodie and shaking his head. “Just because I wanted to come doesn’t mean any of that was okay,” he says, and Chris swallows hard, feeling painfully bare as he stands there naked with Justin fully clothed. Chris nods and Justin turns and heads for the door, walking out it without a look back and slamming it behind himself. 

Chris blinks hard, surprised to find tears rising to his eyes. He sighs, leaning against the wall and slipping to the floor. 

“Fuck,” he whispers, burying his face in his hands. He’d gotten what he’d wanted, right? Why was he upset? He didn’t know particularly, but his heart sat heavy in his chest as he got up a moment later and headed into the shower.

**Author's Note:**

> wheresyoursavior.tumblr.com


End file.
